


Finding the Light

by Firewolf1988



Series: Wrath of the Light [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firewolf1988/pseuds/Firewolf1988
Summary: An army assaulted the Frozen Throne to stop the Lich King's crusade against Azeroth. In the end, only ten brave souls remained. Now Myaka Winterborne, a paladin who fought in that very battle, finds that the effects of the fight do not end just because the Lich King is dead.





	1. Long Lasting Reach of the Frozen Throne

The two men strode quickly into the Abbey. Word spread all over that those involved in the final battle of the Lich King were sent to the Abbey for healing and recovery, while those who didn’t survive were sent elsewhere.

“Are we sure…” The younger of the two men started to speak, his reddish brown hair brushed against a bandage on his forehead. The wound was all that was left of the injuries that brought his push into the Citadel to an end.

“She has to be.” the older man cut of the question. “You know what it would mean if she wasn’t Nathan.” The man tried to flag down one of the priests hurrying around. 

“Sir Winterborne!”

“Micah!”

The calls brought them both up short, a woman hurried towards the two men, their forms relaxing at the calm manner of her and the priest with her.

“Tori, Thank the Light, is she…” 

“She’s here, recovering.” She pulls up short for a moment, “The rumors are true. The Lich King did kill all of the force against him and try to raise them. It failed-” She hurried on quickly as they started to interrupt her.  
“Highlord Fordring broke Frostmourne when the Lich King attempted to raise them, King Terenas was one freed. He was able to raise the defenders from the dead to save them from the Lich King’s plot and the army and the Highlord defeated him.”

Micah and Nathan sagged against each other. “So it was a proper raising? She is not…” 

“No, she is not cursed with Undeath.” The priest with Victoria answered gently. “However, the-” The group finished their journey, entering an open room. A young woman was sitting up in the bed and turned towards the group. Light brown eyes brightened as she settled her gaze on Nathan and her father. Her tall frame unfolded as she moved to her feet. The priest hurried forward, able to steady her as she wobbled a bit on her feet.

“Lady Winterborne, please stay resting-”

“I am fine, you don’t need to bother yourself, Brother Neal.” The woman said gently, “Stood to fast, that is all.”

“You were unconscious when brought here Lady Winterborne, something we still need to discuss.” He rebuked. Anything else he would have said gets cut off when shouts and alarms ring through the area.

“Orcs are attacking!” Marshal McBride’s voice rang through the abbey. “All to arms, protect the Abbey!” Myaka was already moving, her hand snagging her warhammer on her way out of the room. Her father and brother fell into step behind her, their training overriding their concern over her condition. Brother Neal shouted after her something about an issue from the Lich King fight. She paid him no mind and rushed towards the first orc she saw she raised her hammer high over her head; prayer on her lips to call the Light to smite her enemy…

_Painpainpain_

The feeling was all consuming, it was as if her blood had turned to fire in her veins. As if something was trying to burn her from the inside out. A cry of pain ripped itself from her throat as she dropped her weapon and fell to her knees. The move saved her life as the orc in front of her swung his greataxe at her neck, the blade passing harmlessly over her head. A hammer of pure light sailed over her prone form and she shied away from it, feeling as if the Light burned the skin of her neck and back. Out of habit she tried to call upon the light to heal whatever wound or curse a warlock or other horde caster must have used on her only to writhe on the ground as another wave of burning pain coursed through her.

_By the Light what is happening?!_  
Nathan and Micah stayed near her, fighting away any horde that tried to get near the downed paladin until Brother Neal was able to get to her. He helped her crumbled form up and back into the Abbey. Silence greeted her when the door to the abbey closed behind her. 

__

__

She panted in pain as she was lowered back into the bed she had been rested in before. “W-what…I don’t…” Her mind was in shambles, the pain brought back complete clarity of her collapse in Icecrown Citadel. King Terenas brought them back after Highlord Fordring broke Frostmourne. All of the small army that had survived the push to the final fight, an army of a hundred whittled down to just ten people. They should have stopped, they should have regrouped. But the dead of the army had bolstered his forces, could they have even pushed themselves back into the Citadel after a regroup? They had to try. It almost seemed like they were winning. And then…

The Lich King killed them all in a wave of necromantic energy. She had enough of a moment of realization to feel a cold damp edge to the magic. It was if the warmth of the Light was snuffed out and it only left her with the cold embrace of death. She felt nothing for what was both a second and an eternity, and then the cold spread. It spread and chilled her skin; her blood; her very soul. It was as if she would never feel anything again but that never ending cold. And then, it was gone, warmth suffused her and she could move again, breathe again. The rest of the raiding party stood and charged towards the Lich King suspended in the grasp of the souls freed from Frostmourne. She moved to start healing the others and suddenly the warmth of the Light had turned to an inferno. It scorched through her, dropping her to her knees. She tried to heal through it anyway and the fire consumed her until it all went black.

“What-What did he do to me?”

Brother Neal pressed down lightly on her shoulders, trying to get the tall woman to remain in bed and resting. 

“Some of you still had residual necromantic magic left in you from the failed raising the Lich King attempted to raise the raiding party as his army of death knights. For some, it doesn’t do much. For you however, the Light tries to burn it away whenever you call upon it. The two cannot coexist.”

“It…” sick dread coiled in her chest, “Did he…” Just trying to ask the words felt like forcing lead through her lips.

“It is temporary.” Brother Neal soothed, “This is temporary. You are in no danger of losing your connection to the Light,” He pinned her with a stern gaze, ‘You are however, in danger of losing your life if you are not patient. Your body can not handle that again. You will shut down your heart if you do that again.”

Her terror lessened as she listened, she didn’t care about what it could do as long as it didn’t sever her connection. “How…how long?”

“We can cleanse it slowly, it will hurt, but we can regulate it.” 

“Cleanse.” She says softly, breathing out deeply, “I understand that.”

“I am serious, let us handle cleansing you. If you force it to quickly it will kill you.”

She nods, “I will do as you request.” She says softly, “I can handle the pain of it if it will bring me back into the grace of the Light.”


	2. Questioning Darkness in the Shadows of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myaka wrestles with the cost of battle with her affliction and receives a riddle that leaves her with more questions.

Duskwood felt oppressive, even with the Light lightly glowing around her from the other paladins. She preferred the slight discomfort that the Light caused the necromantic magic in her blood, no different than the itch of a slowly forming sunburn, when her other option was to have nothing to block the unnatural darkness that permeated the area.

The others fanned out around the clerics and herself. Her current condition didn’t stop the others from falling into rank behind her. Whispers skittered at her back, as they had since her fit when the orcs attacked the abbey. 

“…collapsed before she could do anything…”

“…Lich King tried to _raise_ her…”

“…she was one of the Ten…”

The paladin tapped a gauntleted finger against the plate covering her other arm, the movement born of nerves and boredom brought the whispers up short. She had heard of the nickname given to the army that stopped the Lich King: The Ten, simple and precise. Ten brave souls who survived every trial thrown at them in Icecrown, only to die with one dark attack. The Lich King wanted champions to wipe out the world. A brief nightmarish flash of an image crowded her mind. Herself, decked in black saronite plate that marked the traitor’s Death Knights. A great runeblade wielded in her hand swinging in a wide arc to cleave through her loved ones as she followed the Lich King’s commands to scourge the living in Azeroth.

She shook her head to clear it, banishing the blasphemous image. Her current predicament proved that the Light would have smote her to ash before it allowed her to be defiled and desecrated in such a way.  
Her musings were cut short as they approached Darkshire. Screams echoed through the unnatural darkness encroaching on the town. Her gauntleted hand tightened, wishing she could grasp the haft of her warhammer. She was under strict orders to triage only, and use minimal healing spells. While the cleansing proceeded well, it did not go quickly. It had taken much cajoling to allow her this much freedom. If she was not careful the clerics wouldn’t let her out of the Abbey until she was wrinkled and gray.

The giant abomination threw such thoughts out of her mind as it’s hook flew towards them. The point burst through the chest of the cleric to her side, pulling the doomed man towards the axe that split him in half. The group scattered, light magic flying from the clerics while glowing war-hammers and swords swung towards the beast. 

It roared in anger, it’s great arm sweeping through the paladins, sending some reeling from the blow and sending blood squirting from chopped limbs and neck. She was frozen in the back with the clerics. She could not fight this thing without the Light. The damage it inflicted was too much, was too great to heal with minimal spells and potions. She raised a hand and felt the speeding burn as a flash of light flew from her hand to the group in front. She hissed but it was doable. 

The beast turned towards them then, lumbering steps shuddering as it charged. More of her brethren fell under it’s axe and hook as it tore through them with abandon.  
This cannot be done, I need the Light to beat it.

A deep fortifying breath flew easily from her lips before she prayed. 

It burned, not as much as before. The cleansing had done that much. The beast swung towards her, and it’s axe impacted a shield of Light. She looked up at it’s gritted animalistic teeth filled maw as it snarled and swung at the shield again and again. The other’s who could scattered, pulling the wounded free and away from the monster. She again wished for her warhammer as she watched cracks appear in the divine protection. 

_I have faith._

_I believe that if this is the answer the Light wishes to give, that it is the right one._

The cracks deepened and then the shield shattered. Shards of Light and holy fire flew like shrapnel, impacting the creature and sending her to her knees as the Light impacted her as well. The abomination bellowed as the Light burned away at it, before it fell backwards and grew still.

The clerics rushed forward, finishing the beast and providing healing to those still recoverable. Others ran towards the downed paladin, hesitating when they realized their healing would only harm her. She stirred after a moment, crying out and pulling her gauntlets free. Burns blistered on the skin, as if an offense holy spell had hit her. She stood after a moment, grimacing at the pain. She waved away those surrounding her.

“I will get healing back at the Abbey, see to the others. That beast had been attacking here a good amount of time from the carnage. What brought it here?” 

The other clerics did as commanded, hurrying from injured to injured. The commander of Darkshire’s forces conferred with her, the understanding that a gullible worgen Death Knight, recently joined from the Ebon Blade, had performed tasks for a local necromancer caused her to sigh softly.

“One of the Blade should have known better. I know a contact in the Ebon Blade, a Pyraellen Dawnbringer. I will inform her that some of the Blade need retraining to not be tricked in such a way.” 

The commander nodded thankfully, she turned away from her and then bit back a groan as she saw Brother Neal hurrying towards her, disappointment scrawled over his features.

“I heard about your shield trick.” He said firmly, before his features softened. “Oh, Lady Winterborne. Why do you never do as you are told.”he asked softly as he gingerly lifted her uncovered arms to look over the burns.   
This was no sunburn, the backlash of the collapsing shield had struck like splashed burning grease. Blisters formed from her elbow down to her palms. She hissed as his fingers prodded on of the burns and pulled her hand back. The   
sharp movement brought a whimper of pain before she could stop it.

“I had to do something, Brother Neal. It was slaughtering everyone. The Watch we’re able to keep it from civilians, but it had injured so many.”

“I warned you about continuing use of the Light didn’t I? That shield could have done so much more when it collapsed if the Abomination had not taken the bulk of the attack.”

She regarded him for a moment before saying softly. “I am a warrior of the Light, and it protects its own. I have faith that the Light will never answer with my death for a price when I ask it for help.”

“And if you are wrong? If there is a time when the Light requires your life for a miracle?”

“Then I will pay it, if the Light wills that that is required of me.”

——————————-

She knew Brother Neal worried after Darkshire. 

He didn’t allow her to leave as she feared would happen. It had been a reckless declaration she would admit, and Brother Neal’s question did gnaw at her slightly. She, like any sane being, loved life. She did not want to die anymore than anyone else did. she lifted up a hand, unarmored as she was now it was easy to see the normal aura of Light was missing, just as it had been after that terrible battle in Icecrown.

Small healing spells she no longer needed to pray for, she had been using them for years. It was but a thought now to call upon the Light to heal, or to strike down the enemies in front of her. Some things she still needed prayers for of course. She remembered such things very vividly; such as a young warrior her age brought into a forward camp before the attack on Northrend. He had been in such terrible condition, and as she started to channel healing into him she knew it was already too late for simple healing spells. The wound across his chest, large claw marks gouging so deeply she could see his ribs caused by one of the undead nerubians, bled sluggishly. She closed her eyes and felt the prayer of salvation bubbling up in her memory. If he could not be healed, she wanted his journey into the arms of the Light to be a calm one. 

The prayer came easily to her now, just as it had that day. The Light did save him. She remembered so easily the terrible wounds on his chest knitting closed as Light slowly worked through him. His rough, thready breaths that had begun to slow and quiet became easier and quieter. She looked up just as a near translucent form appeared in front of her, the boy stood, smiling thankfully at her before the Light that made up his soul fragmented into motes of glittering yellow. The motes hovered over the boy’s body before they slowly drifted, settling over his form like starlight. The brilliance faded, leaving him strangely small and frail before his eyes flickered open.

A slowly growing burning feeling pulled her mind from the memory of her first time using the Light to resurrect someone. Without realizing, she had begun to repeat the prayer of salvation to herself, Light played over the skin of her outstretched hand. She watched, almost dispassionately, as the skin reddened and began to blister as if she touched a pot used to cook. The pain was nowhere what she thought it would be, but now that her musing had been interrupted and the prayer stopped, the Light slowly faded.

_What must I do?_

_The Light had begun to answer, and she had been the focal of the reply._

_How am I to bring salvation?_

_Was it her salvation? Was it another?_

She felt bereft, cast adrift and a sea with only a small raft to keep her from drowning. 

_Do I need to be saved?_

She believed so wholeheartedly in Darkshire that she was a warrior of the Light. Her words echoed back to her.

_“I am a warrior of the Light, and it protects its own. I have faith that the Light will never answer with my death for a price when I ask it for help.”_

What if it did? What if a shield isn’t enough before this is gone. The horde did not stop attacking, they attacked the Abbey. Deathwing attempts to destroy anything he can.

Cold ice gripped her, just like it had that day in Icecrown. Was she strong enough? She had not been in Northrend. Had her doubts allowed the traitor to sink his claws into her even more than the others? Is this why he was able to make the Light hurt every time she used it?

“Lady Winterborne?”

The voice pulled her from her troubled thoughts, and she whirled to see one of the other priests of the Abbey. “Brother Neal, He wished us to check if you wanted to go on the Pilgrimage?”

Suddenly, a way to find answers had presented itself. The pilgrimage to the tomb of Uther the Lightbringer. It was standard to people of the Alliance to leave offerings of remembrance this time of year to the paladin. However, to those of the former Silver Hand, the trek had a holy feel to it. She nodded, “Yes. I feel I need to travel to the tomb, if Brother Neal feels it’s safe.”

_________________________________________

There was always a pang of sadness when she entered Eastweald, now known to most as the Plaguelands. She remembered this area from her youth, growing up and entering training in the Silver Hand. She knew that Stratholme lay to the east, eternally burning in the cleansing flame that devoured all of her old home and would have devoured her family if Nathan and herself had not made it to the home to insure her family had not eaten the plagued grain and secreted them away as those who followed Prince Arthas culled the city.

Scholomance laid to the west, in the old ruins of Caer Darrow. The remaining scourge sieged the area from the old stronghold and wanted to take back Andorhal. She looked towards the former breadbasket of Eastweald, frowning as it seemed like combat may be happening, judging by the fortifications she could see.

“Lady Winterborne?” The priest leading the pilgrimage caught her attention, understanding her wandering mind, even if they did not understand what had caught her eye at the moment. Myaka smiled warmly, and turned back to the group to begin the walk to the tomb. 

Time past the defeat of the Lich King gave time to allow the tomb to be refinished, the pathway had foliage growing and a graveyard had been settled around it. It was even more tranquil then normal. The others waited as each went in one at a time, this was a private journey for most of them, and it would have been rude to intrude on their own prayers.

She held her breath as she stepped over the threshold into the tomb proper. She blinked, surprised to not feel that uncomfortable itch that the Light caused whenever she was in contact with it, even the residual feeling from the others faded.

“You seek salvation child.” The quiet voice spoken by a soothing male tone brought her attention back to the statue in the middle of the tomb, and the translucent man in front of her. A gasp worked from her astonished mind, there were stories Uther would appear before some, but she had never seen him.

She dropped to kneel on numb legs, bowing her head in supplication. “Lord Uther.” She murmured. 

“Rise child, we don’t have time for that.” Her head snapped up, and she shakily go to her feet. “Lord Uther?”

He let out a huff, the sound more amused then annoyed. “Your time is nearly here child. Your travel to this land is the last step.”

“Then…you can remove it Lord Uther?” She had not even thought her most secret prayer. That this trip could lead to the end of her affliction. Her heart dropped when she saw his ghostly head shake. “I can not Child. You will understand my words, when it is time.”

She bowed her head again, “I do not know what to do, Lord Uther. I am trying to remember patience. I am trying to remember what was taught to me but…” She looked up, shame clear on her features as she speaks. “I am afraid.”

“Child,” He said quietly, almost sorrowfully. “It is alright to be afraid. One can only be brave when they are afraid. Remember that, the question you ask will be answered.”

“The question?”

He gave a small smile, “You will know, when it is time.”

_________________________________________________

His words filled her as she left the tomb, he left her with more questions then when she started this. What did he mean?


End file.
